


Games

by _jamjar (phizzle)



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Antagonistic Relationship, Kissing, M/M, POV Third Person, Past Tense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-05-06
Updated: 2004-05-06
Packaged: 2017-10-02 12:16:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phizzle/pseuds/_jamjar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is sick of Draco's games.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Games

**Author's Note:**

> For dorrie6 on livejournal/IJ.
> 
> One of the first things I posted, though not one of the first things I wrote. Oh, my twenty-year-old self, how your writing improved.

Harry rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Brilliant," Ron muttered. "What now?" He curled his fingers over his wand, but Hermione put a restraining hand on his arm and shook her head slightly, eyes flicking to Professor Snape, who was glaring at them, just stepping through the doors into the Entrance Hall.

"Oh look, it's the Weasel King and Potter," Malfoy sneared, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, as usual. Harry felt a shot of annoyance; just once, he'd like to talk to Malfoy without his cronies.

That thought surprised him, so he pushed it to the back of his mind with the others. He lifted his chin. "What do you want, Malfoy?" he asked.

A smile spread on Malfoy's face, a rare occurance, as it was not his usual sneer. "Come with me, Potter," he said, silencing Crabbe and Goyle's movements with a gesture. Harry glanced at Ron and Hermione, shrugged, and followed Malfoy up the stairs, watched by the others. Harry glanced back at his friends and saw them being moved on by Snape.

"In here," Malfoy said, opening a classroom door. Harry sighed and followed him in.

"What is this, Malfoy? A game?" Harry folded his arms.

"I don't play games," Malfoy said. Harry couldn't help but snort, shaking his head. That smile, a genuine smile, was back on Malfoy's face. "Except with you," he added, still smiling almost pleasantly.

Harry rolled his eyes and made to leave. "Where are you going?" Malfoy asked, panicking. Harry glared at him, at the hand on his arm.

"You obviously have nothing to say to me," Harry told him, moving his arm out of reach, "and I'm not interested in playing games."

"Oh, but you _always_ play games with me," Malfoy muttered, almost too quiet for him to hear. Harry shook his head.

"I'm not like you, Malfoy, I don't play games. With anyone," he added, turning to leave again.

"We're not so different, Potter."

"How do you figure that, Malfoy?"

He moved so fast Harry saw a blur, and then he was pressed against him, breath grazing Harry's earlobe.

"We both want the same thing," Malfoy breathed, "Harry."

Harry looked at him, confused, and saw Malfoy's eyes were dark. A vision floated in front of his eyes; dreams he had had and repressed, odd thoughts he'd quashed... and a moment later, his hands were on Draco's face, in his hair, and their lips were meeting, and Draco was pushing him against the wall, fingers curling in his messy hair. And Harry didn't know why, he just knew he didn't want it to stop.


End file.
